Playing in Bars
Alone on the tiny dance floor, Kristen Fowler’s hips swayed slowly in rhythm to the slow blues the band was playing. Her long tanned legs and flowing blond hair moved like wind and water. The guitar solo sent chills into her soul, reminding her of Jimmy, the way his fingers would dance on the fretboard and on her skin. Jimmy played better lead than this guy, but there was no denying that the guy was good, too good for a seedy little bar in the middle of nowhere. The world was full of guitar...